They say I’ve forgotten my identity, basic daily tasks, the day, time, where I am…
But at times it feels as if everyone has forgotten me…
As I remain paralyzed in the memories of my past, it feels as if time is slipping out of my hands.
Day and night, I stay wrapped in warm reveries of my past, in attempts to avoid getting frost bites from my cold reality.
Alone I stay, like a piece of old dusty furniture, dreading the day I get tossed out.
I was here with the budding of each flower and will stay alive in the garden of memories I have bestowed upon them.
From the first day of life, first steps, first words, walks to school, graduation, and marriage…I was there.
I May Forget but, Forget Me Not…
Inspiration: The Voice of Dementia
The Mind of an Intellectual 